Reborn
by Marie-J
Summary: Angel/Highlander crossover: when Spike dies and has a chance to live once more, who is his father if not Angel. (warning:mpreg)
1. Death of a childe

It's my first BtVS and AtS story

It's my first BtVS and AtS story. I hope you like it.

Title : Reborn

Author : Marie-J

Email: [francoise.perichaud@libertysurf.fr][1] (Please, feedback needed)

Fandom: BtVS and AtS, maybe crossover later with Highlander….

WIP (I don't know if I will have a lot of time to write it in the near future….)

Character death, Mpreg, angst, romance (later maybe Angel/Methos)

Disclaimers: the characters are not mine, sad, isn't it. 

Archive: if you want it, take it (just tell me)

Summary: Spike dies but is reborn. Who is the happy father, if not his Sire, Angel…

Rating: for now, PG.

******* 

Spike could not feel anything but the pain. He had already lost all his strength and knew that for him, the end would come soon. And he was alone, with no one to comfort him as he lived his last minutes. No one to squeeze gently his hand and reassure him. 

Of course, he was the Big Bad Vampire, as he liked to tell everyone, and most of all, to himself. A powerful Master Vampire. Someone whose name was feared both by humans and demons, even with that damn bloody chip in his head. And he needed absolutely no one, didn't he? He was proud and tried to repeat it with every second, as he felt his life leaving him.

The Scoobies had once more rejected him, and Buffy had once more made fun of him, killing him more effectively than the bastard who had been his murderer, only three hours ago. After an ordinary patrol, along with these selfish mortals whose life he had once more saved, the local new Master Vampire's minions had trapped him. Such a pitiful youngster, awfully and so commonly named Michael Smith, could not lead the local community when a legend such as William the Bloody, Angelus' Childe, was in the city, defying him by working for the Slayer and killing his minions every single night. He had let his elder no chance, as the coward had somehow found out about the poison the Mayor has previously used against Angel. While his minions had attacked him all at once and where one by one changed into dust, Mike had thrown a poisoned knife in Spike's back before stepping back in the shadows. 

A burning sensation had travelled and settled all over Spike's body as he fell hardly on the ground. His blood seemed to boil in his cold heart and brain as fever overwhelmed him. His nerves all at once were bringing to his head a huge and excruciating wall of pain threatening his consciousness. Weakness and pain was his whole world now. And all hope had been wipped away pretty quickly and harshly by his so-called allies.

The Scooby gang, who had witnessed everything but done nothing to help him, had then come forward. Amusement and joy could be seen on their face. Spike did not need to read their mind to understand that they were overjoyed by the thought of his coming death, he who had been their greatest enemy before he had been forced to help them. They had never really accepted him among them, no matter the number of times when he had saved their life. He was never a sentient being to them, only a disturbance they were happy to finally get rid of. He could still hear their cold analysis of the situation, when his despair had really settled in his broken and lonely heart.

"Spike, lazy pig, get up! We don't have the whole night!" was the first words he heard from Buffy since the attack. Very comforting indeed! 

To weak already to even utter a reply, Spike shivered and the only sound that crossed his lips was a very painful and pitiful moan. It was the enough to prove to them that his condition was quite serious. He felt in a blur that he was moved, turned on his stomach and the dagger brutally being removed from his back. Apparently, the situation was not something new to them, as he vaguely heard them discuss the diagnosis coldly in front of him.

"Poison, I would say. The same that was used on Angel" came the voice of the ex-Watcher. "I do not think that we even can try to save him, as we all know it would cost us so dearly"

"You're right, G-Man", exclaimed Xander, "I was already unhappy when we saved Dead Boy's life. I don't even want to consider it for Dead Boy Junior"

"No way he can have my blood,» proclaimed Buffy who remembered the time when she had compelled her ex-lover to drink her blood in order to stop the poison that was killing him. "This neutered dog can die for all I care,» she added in a happy tone.

"Yes, let's leave him here. Nothing we can do except let him suffer here for all the crimes he have committed." Came the very judgmental reply from the little Red Head. "Come on. We are bronzing tonight, you remember?" She added forgetting already the dying man at her feet as she had promised Tara to join her at the Club and was already late for their date.

And so they went away, with a last ironical and cruel "Bye Spike, Have fun in hell!" from the Slayer. 

And so his death sentence had come to him. Still conscious, but too weak to even stake himself in order to end his suffering, he was waiting for the poison to kill him or for the sun to turn him into dust, depending which one would come first. The only thing left to him was thinking about his life, or better, his unlife. The irony of his condition as a feared but neutered Master Vampire, killed by his own kind and rejected by the one responsible for this attack downed on him painfully. His awful loneliness since his Dark Goddess had abandoned him was excruciating. And most of all his fear to die alone, with no one caring for him and reassuring him in his last hour was overwhelming. 

Once, he remembered, his Sire, Angelus, who had claimed him as a son, and given him the title of favoured childe, had promised him, when he had been badly hurt by a slayer, that whatever happened, he would never be alone, he would be by his side, watching over him till the end. This thought brought back to him his conflicting feelings he had towards Angel. Feelings that were now melting in an only thing: regret.From the moment the older vampire had created him, his sire had been very loving and protective, treating him as a son, his real and favoured heir. He had been his sire, his teacher, his father, his master, his guide, his friend, and his killing buddy. As a young vampire, Spike had had the most loving and protective sire a childe could hope ever having. 

But then, the Day had come. This fateful day when gipsies had stolen his father from him. This night, when a souled vampire, who pretended to care for him despite all, had come to him, young William had not seen that need in his sire eyes. He had only been repulsed by the unnatural creature and had rejected him definitely. He had not understood. In order to forget his sorrow, he had come to love Drusilla, his Dark Goddess, and had become a notorious Master Vampire. He had proven that he did not need his sire anymore, his sire who was dead to him. When, coming in Sunnydale, Spike had met Angel for the first time in a century, it had been very hard on him and he had once more rejected him. He had seen his sire helping his enemy against him, and it hurt badly. He had however not seen that whatever he had done to his sire, Angel had not once really tried to kill him, even when he had tortured him, twice in two years. He had not seen the weary look his sire had whenever he had to side along his lover against his childe, his son. But now, at his last hour, Spike understood all that and longed to have Angel, his real and caring sire, with him, holding his hand before he died, as he had promised a long time ago. To feel warm once more in his father's love and secured in his arms. If only…

At this same moment, when he finally realised what he had lost, his last wish was granted to Spike. Angel, who had secretly been in Sunnydale in order to kill a dangerous demon who had escaped from Los Angeles a few days earlier, had finally found and slain the Chaos Demon in a dark crypt at the other side of the cemetery. He was going to get back to his car when he had heard a strange sound, like a soft and painful sob, from the East. Stepping closer carefully, he froze at the sight that laid before him. A slim and blond haired figure he immediately recognised as his dear childe's was shivering on the ground, nearly unconscious but visibly in such a great pain that Angel heart broke instantly, soul and demon both crying inward for Spike. He instinctively knew the despair at the thought of loosing his dear son and fell to the ground, on his knees, beside his dying childe. 

A quick examination revealed the gravity of the situation to the sorrowful Sire. His Childe would soon be no more. And he did not know what to do to make things better for Spike. Once, he had promised him to comfort him and watch over him till the end. And Fate had allowed him to fulfil this heart-breaking oath. Coming even nearer to Spike, Angel gently lifted his upper body and cradled him against his chest, stroking gently his pale face and hair, murmuring comforting words in his childe's ear hoping against reason that Spike would hear him and come back, if only for a mere second. Enough to tell him goodbye… "No, my childe, come back to me. I'll protect you, don't worry. I'll always be there for you. I promised you that, remember ? Childe, come back to me….." 

A last hope, a last thought crossed his mind. Blood ritual could bring back the most ill vampires. It had worked for Drusilla, why not on William. He could not even imagine not trying it, even if in his mind, he knew that his favoured Childe was already to far away. He was so pale, so weak already. Such a sorrowful scene. Anyway, he had to do something, anything. In his panic, Angel had to remember the gestures, the words. He had the faith that, even if it was not entirely successful, the process would give a few more minutes with his beloved son. Better than nothing.

Still cradling his Childe's agonising body, Angel briefly and very gently bit into Spike's wrist and swallowed a little mouthful of his blood, beginning the sharing. He then quickly bit his own wrist and presented his blooded arm on his Childe's mouth. Instinctively, Spike began swallowing the precious and powerful nectar, the most delicious and nourishing thing he had ever had, his Sire's blood. Words fell shakily from Angel mouth, continuing the ritual as he was hardly remembering reading a rare spell book many years ago "Natus es a sanguine meo, natus eris ex corpore meo. Amor victor morsque vincta est" (You were born by my blood, you will be born from my body. Love wins and death loses). He did not know the exact effects of the spell, but knew its goal was to give back a dying favoured childe his life thanks to his sire help, blood and love. "Please, let it work, please…"were his next words, just before he looked down to his Childe's face, to see it for the last time. 

Spike, awake for one second, thanks to the century old powerful blood he had just drunk, fixed loving eyes on Angel, telling him in his last murmured word all his pain, regret and affection "Sire…" And with a smile on his face, happy at least that his wish had been granted, that he had made his peace with his Sire and with himself, he closed his eyes and went absolutely still in Angel's arms. One second later, his body dissolved into dust as a very anguished cry raised from his grieving sire's chest. "Noooooooo !" 

Mentally shocked and emotionally painfully exhausted, rocking himself back and forth, Angel was not aware of the light that suddenly surrounded him for a whole minute. Lost in his grief and pain, he did not know that a spark of life, or unlife for that matter, had impregnated him. His beloved Childe he had just lost was back, growing slowly in him, waiting to be reborn from his Sire, his true Father now.

******* end part 1, part 2 soon I hope.

*******

Part 2

In that moment Angel could feel his heart breaking. Memories were flowing back into his mind, each one bringing up the joy of the proud sire and the sorrow of the grieving father. He had lost his favoured childe, the one being he had considered as his beloved son from the first time he had seen him. Back then William had been a mere human, a young poet who was in great need of protection and self-confidence. He seemed quite weak physically, but was strong mentally. He was innocent, passionate and believed in his dreams, however foolish they seemed. It did not matter what the stupid lads of the pubs of London told him, he went on and on. Brave, beautiful, smart, and sensitive: Angelus had suddenly understood that William would be a perfect childe, son, heir and friend. He could protect him, teach him in his ways, and make William the perfect companion. 

And the father like relationship and love between them had been so extraordinarily pure and complete that when he had been cursed, his soul had not rejected it as evil or as the sign of his crimes. He had never stopped loving him, always been protective towards him, even when he was rejected time after time by Spike. What he had had was so great, so rich, so overwhelming! And now… he could not even cry over a body, as William's nature had prevented it, changing his dead body into an awful dust heap, that was soon gone with the wind. 

It was as if the world had stopped and was crying with him for this immense loss. The rain had started pouring from the sky, leaving Angel's face a path of mystic tears. The wind seemed to lament for this heart breaking death, telling its sympathy to the father, for the loss of his dear son. The nature around Angel grieved with him. Both the soul and the demon shared the same anguish, the same sorrow, and the same pain. They were united in this sad event as they had never been before. He was constantly shifting from human face to game face, unable to control the strength of his feelings. Angel had lost a son, Angelus had lost a childe. And the pain was unbearable, almost physical. His chest was hurting with suppressed sobs, his eyes, changing from chocolate to an angry yellow, could not see anything through the wall of tears. Time seemed to have stopped at that fateful moment. 

Angel, in his despair, did not know if anything could give him enough hope and reasons to go on living. He had no one left. He had been driven farther and farther from the girl he thought he loved more than his own life. Buffy now appeared as she really was, a selfish little brat, unable to get past her own little desires and wishes. No, he had no one who would love and understand him or most of all try to comfort him and make the pain go away. Of course, he still had a Duty, as a chosen Warrior for the Powers that Be. But right now, he could not see why he should worry for the world when the world had stolen his precious childe away from him. 

What was left for him to live for? He didn't know, because he could not see past the moment when his heart had been ripped from his chest, in this cemetery where everything had ended. For all that it all mattered, Angel could wait here for the sun and hope to meet his childe in death once again. He had seen in this last second, when Spike's eyes had suddenly opened, that love had taken the place of the contempt, that his childe had finally understood and had been ready to rejoin his dear sire once more. And then all had been blown away by death. Maybe if he died too… 

Those extremely black thoughts were interrupted by voices he recognised somewhere near him, behind the wall of the cemetery, in the street. He would not have shown any attention to the disturbance if he had not heard the name of his late childe. Angel forced himself to listen, hoping to finally learn what had happened so he could do the only thing he had left to do: avenge his favoured childe murder. His demon was pulling at his chains to get enough freedom to accomplish this final goal. And the soul was most willing to let that happen. 

"Four hours dancing and drinking at the Bronze. That, my friends, is what I call life !" drunkenly exclaimed Xander, before lowering his voice to a joyous whisper and asking Buffy and Willow confidentially, "Four hours, do you think that he is dead now? Do you think that Spike is finally history?" 

"Oh yeah! And if not, the sun will finish him! Don't worry, we didn't celebrate his death for nothing! Wow, what a good night!" happily replied the Slayer. 

"Yes, and we'll have to thank the new master, Mike something, you know, for poisoning Spike. Such a good idea!" added Willow, in a not so shy voice tainted by laughter. 

"You're so right, Wills! I could not stand him anymore. I swear, he was so irritating. He stole my radio after all! And Giles who did not want us to kill him right away, humph…," Xander said enthusiastically before assuming a British accent in order to do a personification of the ex-watcher in lecture mode. "The chip implanted in his brain by the initiative will prevent him from harming any human. So, well… we should be safe. And his new need to feed, as he will not be able to hunt anymore, will convince him, along with some kind of monetary gratifications, to work for us. It will relieve you from a lot of stress, you know, Buffy…." Xander then loosed his seriousness and burst into laughing mixed with sarcasm, "Yeah, you're right, G-Man, now, we will be safe!" 

"We could not have said better, Alexander Lavelle Harris!" Buffy and Willow both said solemnly, before joining him in his drunken laugh. 

With these last words, oblivious in their joy to the angry and sorrowful growls that echoed behind the wall of the cemetery, the Scoobies went away, to where Angel could no longer hear them. During this exchange, it had been hard for Angel to stop Angelus going out and giving these spoiled children, these selfish, cruel, stupid kids the harsh lesson they deserved. Torture them, kill them… what a temptation. But now, for the pasts sake, he would not harm them. He would not even confront them. He would just ignore them forever. They could cry for his help, for his comfort, for his friendship, for his love, even, but he would do absolutely nothing, as they had done nothing for his dying son. He would abandon them to whatever might happen, and leave this fateful little town and never come back to them. 

Angel had not understood everything, but that was really enough to make up his mind definitely about them. His childe had been hurt, injured, incapacitated for who knows how long. And they had tortured him even further, starving him, threatening him. Hell, they had not even told him, his sire, for Christ sake ! He would have done something, anything for him, cured him, or at least try, protected him. How his childe must have suffered mentally and physically from this situation ! And worst, if they had not killed him, they had left him to die alone ! To suffer alone ! But what were they ? Monsters ? His childe had always been afraid to be alone. He had always craved for love and companionship. Why else would have he stayed so long with his crazy sister ? And worst, with that awful stupid bitch, Harmony ? And then, when he must have been forced to seek their company and protection, the Scoobies had done that to him, to His Childe ! 

Oh, no, he would not reap their throats open and avenge his childe's abandonment in their blood. They had left him, and he would definitely leave them! And he would rejoice the day they were killed, hopefully painfully. If Angel did not let Angelus have his ways with the Scoobies, he definitely agreed to let his demon loose in order to avenge the murder of William the Bloody, favoured childe of Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, the most feared Vampire of all times. This little coward who pretended to be a Master Vampire and dared to poison his elders would finally understand the right way to treat his enemies. Angelus would teach this vampire, Mike, (what a jerk name, that was), and all his clan! Such a pity that this Mike would not be there, after the lesson! 

With that last decision, Angel left the cemetery to accomplish the last mission he would ever have in Sunnydale. 

******end part 2

   [1]: mailto:francoise.perichaud@libertysurf.fr



	2. Vengeance

*****part 3*****

*****part 3*****

Angel had a mission, a sacred duty to achieve, and was very determined to complete it to the end: find Spike's murderer, teach him a lesson and finally kill him, showing the world not to mess with his family. A grieving vampire, and better, a grieving sire, was quite insane and would not listen to any kind of reason till his pain had found some remedy in violence  
and mayhem. The logical response of a normal grieving Master vampire, when his childe had been killed by a mortal or the slayer, was to go on a killing crusade and slay the entire community responsible for his loss. Angel still remembered the way his own sire,  
Darla, during a full month, had drunk one by one more than two hundred Romani from the clan who had cursed her beloved Angelus. That had been a really terrible time for this community. But it would be nothing in regard to what Angelus would do to this Master Mike  
and his clan. History would remember and fear would forever be linked to his name in every demon's heart. They would definitely know not to harm what was his. Never again would he have to suffer through such a loss again. Angel's sadness and sorrow, mixed with Angelus' anger and passion indeed represented a very powerful bomb that would blow this little clan of  
cowards and pitiful vampires away as soon as he could reach them.  
  
But first of all, Angel, being away from Sunnydale for more than one year now, had no idea where the vampire community had its head quarters, and where the new master and his childer and minions had their lair. It would not be difficult to gain the information. The old ways were always the best ones, Angel ran to the other side of town, to Willy's little demon hole that he dared to call a bar. This disgusting traitor and filthy excuse for a human being had always been making money with information. And Angel had often used his services, giving him a note or two for his pain. But right now, the angry vampire had no patience and desire to play little games with the bartender. The mixed persona resulting from the temporary merging of the demon and the soul was all for efficiency. He would be given information or he would take it, anyway he thought fit.   
  
And, Willy had read all that determination on Angel's face at first sight, when he had passed the door and came into his dirty bar. Of course he had tried to flee into the back room, but he stood absolutely no chance against vampire speed and strength. The next thing he knew, he was pinned to the wall by a very dangerous Angel in game face. In that moment, his eyes  
locked with Angel's cold and vaguely insane ones. Willy understood he had to do as he was told and answer quickly to all questions if he had the slightest desire to stay alive. And he didn't have long to wait before they came.   
  
"It's very simple, Willy. Either you talk, or you die. Understood?" growled Angel, no more than one inch away from the cowering human. He talked in a very low voice, but it was more threatening and terrible than any shout he could have uttered.   
  
"Yee.eesss!" Willy whispered back, scared as he never had been before, and added quickly in a shaking voice "Whatever you want me to tell you, whatever, I swear, Angel!"  
  
"Angel.. Let me think. No! Try Angelus; it's more accurate at the moment, little Willy!" the vampire interrupted, his fangs on the bartender's neck, in a light tone that sent shivers of terror down Willy's spine. With that single sentence, he was sure to attract all the attention he needed in order to make the example as efficient as he wanted it to be in the Demon's underworld, as Willy would not wait one more hour before telling his tale everywhere. But he had not finished what he had come to do. "The new so-called Master Vampire, a Mike something. I want to know who this bastard is, where this coward is hiding and how strong is his ridicule little clan for now. Any childer? How old? How many minions? And I want to  
know it NOW!" Angel added really seriously, in a 'don't-try-to-cross-me-or-you-die' tone that Willy understood very well.

  
"Ah yes! The new Master. some Michael Smith guy. Pretty young if you ask me. Nearly a fledgling, you know. Childe of that Mister something, you know, this vampire who was always kissing Mayor Wilkins' ass. 25 years old as a vampire, at most. He settled here after  
the Ascension. He took over the old fabric lair after Spike went away. Spike, that was a real Master, if you catch what I mean. The best after you, of course, Angelus.. Well, that's really no big deal. He is a little bit of a coward and a traitorous bastard, but nothing to worry about. Too young to have real childer. Only stupid weak minions, about fifteen. He even took over one or two of your old minions and included them at his service. The Slayer doesn't even  
bother to go after them, so you see." his voice trailed off when he glanced at the very tensed  
features of the vampire holding him against the wall. Once his questions answered, Angel walked away from the scared bartender who fell on the ground, panting and sweating, but happy to be still alive.  
  
Angelus had seemed so angry! Willy would not be this Michael Smith for all the gold on earth. When he had to deal with the souled vampire, Angel, Willy was really ill at ease, fearing a violent reaction whenever he teased him too much. But if Angelus was  
back. That guy, whatever he had done to upset the Scourge of Europe, would not understand what he would get, and die as stupid as he had lived. Willy was pretty sure about this point. He had answered as truthfully as he could, in a soft and shaking tone, trying all along the way to calm the vampire with flatteries of all kinds. But the killing passion he could read in these yellow eyes was terrifying. What could he have managed to do in order to have such an  
effect on him. That made him a little curious, enough for him to dare to ask the most cruel and vicious demon known on earth this days, just before he went out of the bar. "And, by the way, what is the matter with that guy?"  
  
Angel hesitated a few seconds before answering the question, considering that if he wanted to make an impression and teach a lesson to the demon world, he had to explain the meaning of his next move. "That stupid bastard, as you called him, that coward, that traitor thought he could dare to stab my favoured childe, my beloved Spike, with a poisoned knife and kill him! I'll show the world what it costs to harm the Scourge of Europe's family, to defy me in this  
way! " And with these words, uttered ina very calm and determined tone, Angel walked away, leaving behind him a shocked and surprised Willy who had finally envisioned the truth of the whole situation.   
  
Once in the street, Angel, too far gone in his revenge crusade and having let loose his demon to take care of this sacred duty, did not even hesitate one moment to contemplate the situation. The odds were certainly positive for him. Of course, Angelus had the surprise effect working for him. And he was immensely stronger than this bunch of fledglings and minions, being two  
centuries older and having been a Master Vampire for all this time. And, one thing very few people knew about him: having studied all the ways of magic and mysticism during all his unlife, either in order to end the world, or in order to save it, he had gained a really large experience, that made him one of the most powerful warlocks in the world. More simply, he knew how to fight, and even better, he knew how to terrify his enemies. Only his name would scare half of those damn . insects. He would break them, hurt them, tear all their hope out of them, make them ask for mercy and finally let them die without honour, just as they did his beloved William. No, really, Angel was confident that he would meet absolutely no difficulty.  
The scene would be. yes. pleasurable, added Angelus in the back of his mind. Every step that led him closer to this moment was indeed sending shivers of joy and anticipation down his spine, strengthening his resolve even further.  
  
And finally, ten minutes after leaving the bar, Angel was in front of the back door of the factory. There was not even any guard. Really, what a fool, this Master was! Angelus remembered perfectly that one of the first lessons he had taught his childe after he had turned him was to always guard his perimeter. THAT was the proper way to lead a clan. Poor, poor Mike. He would really not know what hit him. Angel's plan was very simple, indeed. First, running up the stairs, up to the catwalks that surrounded the inner space of the fabric, in order to observe the position and number of the vampires, downstairs. There was no reason to be  
foolish himself because the enemy was obviously a fool. And then. well. attack and kill them all.  
  
Only ten seconds were necessary to complete the first task in the utmost silence, keeping his position absolutely unnoticed. The floor, underneath him, was occupied by the present master vampire of Sunnydale and his court. But behind these big words was hidden a pitiful reality, just as Angelus had expected it to be after his questions had been answered by Willy. The  
master sat in a throne like chair, surrounded by thirteen minions, in the middle of the dirty and dark fabric. Neither Mike's clothes, very casual and cheap, a jean and a soiled T-shirt, nor his physical aspect, small, skinny and almost bald, could inspire respect or fear. He seemed. so normal and yes.average, really.  
  
Angelus could not believe that such a toad could pretend to play in the same world that himself or his childe had. THEY had been the best examples of Masters in the previous centuries, THEY had style and their mere aspect had shown their power, their class, their  
good taste, and other important things in vampire High Society. No, really, Angelus could not stand the sight of this thing that had dared to think himself the equal and the superior of a vampire like Spike and cowardly murdered him. He would have been ill only at that idea if his determination had not been at the forefront in his mind. In a few minutes, the suffering  
and torture of this rat would begin and Angelus' anger would find its release, and only the sorrow would remain.   
  
Now it was time to start the game. With that thought, Angelus discreetly jumped over the handrail and landed just behind this Mike-rat and his court. None of them had seen him yet, only the minion, standing at the other side of the room, whose eyes widened and mouths  
opened in surprise and fear. Angelus recognised him immediately. It was one of his own, a lower vampire, a servant he had created himself three years ago, when he had been free for a few months, before being sent to hell. His blood bond and his submission oath would force the minion to obey his true Master till his death, no matter what. Oh, Angelus did not need him in any way in his plan to slay the whole clan. But one century and a half as the Scourge of Europe had taught him one thing. If he wanted to teach a lesson and send a message by making an example, there had to be a witness to the events. Someone who would have to  
spread the story in the demon world in order to make this act he was about to complete as useful and efficient as he wanted it to be. This little minion was very lucky, indeed. He would escape death today, that is, if he did exactly what Angelus would demand. And the first order, given by a silent sign all his minions had learned at his service, was to remain silent, to go to lock the door and to play along withhim. If not, the result would be very lethal and painful. Oh, yes. painful.   
  


This detail taken care of in a mere second, after his landing, Angelus decided to make his presence known to his future victims. He stepped forward, very slowly and calmly, before stopping just behind Mike. Very casually, Angelus, still wearing his human mask, cleared his throat and started talking in a light and almost playful tone.   
  
"Ah. Excuse me gentlemen! I'm looking for a Mike Smith. I've been told I could find him here. Would you happen to know where he is maybe?" Everyone who knew him and his ways would have been terrified, knowing how devious and vicious he could be. The more casual  
he seemed, the more dangerous he would become, tricking his victim in believing him to be a charming and innocent young man, when the devil himself was waiting just under the mask for the right time to show his true face and intentions.   
  
But apparently, none of the vampires had any idea of the identity or even of the nature of the intruder. It would cost them dearly, as Mike chose a sarcasticanswer to this interruption. "Do you have some kind of suicide wish, mate, to come here and annoy me? If it is so, you have found your man!" he snarled, really startled by this surprise visit of this young fool.  
  
"A suicide Let me think.. no, not me ! But you, on the other hand. I believe that you had decided to die when you woke up, tonight, hadn't you?" Angelus stated on the softest tone, a false calm and a deadly seriousness radiating from him, such a contrast with the soon to be dead vampires who burst into laugh at those words. But of course, the little vampire standing before him was not the smartest being in the universe and could not comprehend that, even if he was one of the most dangerous predator of the world, thanks to his nature, he could perfectly be hunted himself by his better. That self-confidence would be his death.   
  
"And who exactly do you think you are, mortal, to come here and threaten me in my lair?" Mike managed to say between burst of laughing. Still no fear nor uneasiness, Angelus observed coldly. But it would come, and sooner than the rat would imagine. For now, he would play with his victim and take pleasure from the mental game he had mastered a long time ago.  
  
"Mortal? Well, it's been a really long time since anyone ever used this term for me!" he casually told the rat, who stopped his laugh, and for the first time doubt crawled over his face. But Angelus did not let him reply and annoy him further more. He immediately shifted his feature into game face and added a few calm but scaring words that froze Mike's blood in his  
veins and spread terror all over his body, and did the same to all the minions. "I think that we began on a kind of a misunderstanding. Tonight, you completed your last crime, my little friend. Tonight, you acted as a coward and a loser for the last time. Tonight, you dared to challenge the anger of your elders and betters. Tonight, you murdered someone who was more precious to me than any thing in this world. And for that, tonight, you will suffer. For this last stupidity, tonight, you will die slowly and very painfully. That I can swear." After delivering this very eloquent speech, in which every sentence confirmed the anger and the death decree hidden behind it.   
  
"Wh.. what?" Mike finally uttered, in a shaking voice, not yet understanding all that he had been told, but already sensing the danger and the inner power and strength radiating from the stranger. He stepped back a little, in an unconscious attempt to get away from the threat, but to no avail. It seemed that the stranger's eyes were hypnotising, ordering him to stay where he was, making it impossible for him to escape whatever would come.   
  
"Tonight, little man, you trapped and murdered my favourite childe, my son, my William" he explained, reaching Mike's throat and squeezing it harshly with his left hand. At these words, a few whispers rose all over the room, and the name of "Angelus", fearfully pronounced, echoed against the wall and invaded the closed area, their eternal tomb. "Yes, Spike, alias  
William the Bloody, the Scourge of Europe trusted lieutenant, Angelus' favourite childe and heir, MY childe, you worthless little insect!" He finished shouting, spitting the last words at Mike's frozen face. And with a rapid and very efficient move, he grabbed an iron spike and stabbed the rat in the abdomen with it, effectively pinning him to the wall.   
  
Then panic overwhelmed the minions who tried desperately to escape the promise of death that had been made to them. They were running everywhere, not aware of the hunter who one by one hit them all and knocked them out, except for the chosen witness who cowered in a corner, knowing not to irritate his Master by his presence if he wanted to stay alive one more minute. In two minutes, the twelve minions were laying on the ground, all unconscious. Angelus had not dusted them. No, it would be too much compassionate for the likes of them. After all they had let his dear childe suffer for more than four hours. Their punishment would be at least equal to the crime. Angelus would make sure of that he had thought of a much more meaningful way to kill them.   
  
A first examination of the room had revealed a few sets of daggers, five dozen of it at least, and the bottle, still full of the poison used against Spike. Very carefully, Angelus coated the blade of each knife of poison. Then he ordered his minion to carry all the unconscious but still unlacing bodies in the alley, just in front of the fabric. It was there that they would die, seen by every demon passing nearby. Once there, he chose one of them. He really did not care  
who it would be, as they would all be treated the same way. But then he thought that the first one would be the one who would suffer the longer and woke the rat by pouring water on his face. He wanted to be sure that he would feel every torture he was about to inflict him. Then, while the rat, Mike, tried desperately to fight his way out, but to no avail, Angelus crucified him on the wall, in front of the East and the rising sun, sticking a poisoned dagger in each wrist and ankle. The awful cries of the minions were a soft music to Angelus ears, the song of  
revenge, and the melody of justice. They had murdered by poison, they would die by poison. And a little more suffering was really satisfying. Finally, after playing with a knife and making lacerations all over the young vampire's chest, Angelus carved his bloody signature in the pretended master's cheek, a venomous cross. None of the wounds were really profound or  
deadly. But the poison would work for hours and finally, the rising sun would finish the work, in five or six hours. He would have time to regret ever having the idea to attack and kill Angeles's childe.  
  
Angelus, helped by his minion, repeated the process for all the other vampires, the minions, crucifying them all around their leader, six on his left, and six on his right, forming a very impressive and terrifying picture, almost religious in the pantheon of horrors. Once finished this sacred task, he turned toward the wall of torture and spoke loudly, for the dying murderers as well as for the demon world that would be told the story in the next days. "That is the way I will treat every little rat that wants to cross me and hurt me or my family. You are quite lucky, indeed. In the past, I would have kept you alive for weeks for this crime, for the murder of my childe. But, don't mind my leaving you here and enjoy your last hour!"  
  
And with these cruel words, Angelus walked away, as calm as ever, only whispering in the last hour of the night "this is for you my beloved William, my childe". And in this hard time, he almost heard a cherished voice answering softly in his head "Thank you, sire". At that moment, confusion and pain came back at the fore front, and a sob escaped this emotionally  
tortured being. Angelus finally let his humanmask fall again and, all his anger released and dissipated during the four previous hours, he let himself be locked again in Angel's spirit, abandoning the control again to the soul. The sacred duty had been completed. The anger was gone but grief, sorrow, and pain had remained in this bleeding heart, in Angel who wandered  
hopelessly down the streets of Sunnydale toward a mansion that held so many souvenirs of the past, oblivious of the sun that would rise in only a few short minutes.

*****end part 3


	3. So sad

OK, it's just a little part I had written a while back and forgotten to post. Sorry and enjoy. As for next future parts, they are not written yet and sincerely I do not know when I'll be able to do so. I'm on another story right now and have forgotten my previous ideas about this one. I've been stuck at this point for much too long. Of course, if you have ideas or suggestions, do not hesitate.Thanks and sorry.  
  
  
  
  
  
****part 4 ****  
  
The whole town was still calm and silent when, a few minutes before dawn, a lonely figure wandered slowly toward a big and old mansion, where no one had been living for years. The night would soon leave, killed by the first light of the day, as the sky was already tainted with red and purple tones toward the east. But Angel was not aware of that deadly fact. His mind, overwhelmed by sorrow and pain, could not think about such trivial things as his own survival. Furthermore, if he could think about it, deeply in his heart was hiding the secret desire to finally give it up, his life, his loneliness, and his duties. The desire to join his childe into death. For more than one hour now, he had walked down the streets of this fateful hellmouth, not knowing where he was going to, just lost in his thoughts and grief. Instinctively, each step had led him closer to the old mansion, the place where he knew his children had lived for more than one year, their former home, his former home. This place would be maybe still filled with the souvenir of William's happy days, of his laughs, of his presence.  
  
But, when he reached the door, a doubt settled in Angel's mind, as he suddenly was aware of the time and the danger it represented for him. He was definitely not sure he wanted to seek refuge in here or anywhere else, for that matter. His mind was blank, dulled by too much pain and grief. Maybe death would help him; maybe it was not so bad, after all. He could not remember one thing he had now to live for. Nothing. In two minutes, everything would be finished. He would be ash, and ashes could not feel anything, could not hurt for the loss of a beloved childe. He would not have to do anything to achieve this goal, to find finally peace and tranquillity. He only had to do nothing, to stay put on this exact place. The sun would do everything for him. And it would be the end.  
  
With these thoughts, Angel had settled in his mind to wait for the sun to reach him. But at this same moment, in the womb he did not know he had, the ghost of a consciousness woke up, panic stricken by some strong feeling of imminent danger and reached out to call desperately for help. "No, Sire, don't give it up, live for us, father, live for both of us, PLEASE!» And then, this consciousness, too weak to stay awake one more second, fell asleep, waiting to grow and eager to live. This mental yell shook Angel to the core. The spirit of his dead childe had begged him to go on living, and so, as a last respectful present to his memory, this wish would be granted. He did not know how it had happened, and why, but his childe had spoken to him, and he could not not listen to him. The automatic response arrived just in time: the moment Angel opened the front door of the mansion and ran inside, the sun sent its first deadly arms toward Sunnydale.  
  
The whole night had been exhausting for Angel. It had begun with the battle with the demon he had come here to slay, and then, the mental wound that had drained his strength, the agony and death of his childe, to finish with the brutal and long revenge he had exerted against the murderer and his clan. Really, it was grief and pain that made him go on and not fall unconscious on the spot. And now he was in this huge house filled with so many souvenirs of its inhabitants, of Spike. A deep fog surrounded his mind; he could not thing anymore. He had given all he had to give this deadly night.  
  
Right now, he was only going from room to room, not really knowing what he was looking for, and not even looking for anything actually. However, upon entering the master's bedroom, Angel froze for a few seconds. He had his eyes fixed on what had been left on the nightstand, near the bed. Under a light layer of dust, an old precious book and a large gold ring ornate with a big black stone had been abandoned there only a few years ago, no doubt by Spike when he had fled from the city after his sire had been sent to hell. These two things were full of so much memories, it was such a beautiful present the Fates were giving him now, in this time of grief and loss. Angel slowly walked to the nightstand and reach for them  
  
The book, leather covered, on which golden letters were spelling a title- Dark Flowers of my Soul- and a name -William Lightfield- , had been a present to the still mortal and living William. When Angelus had first met the young poet, he had been entranced by the words that came from this young man. No one could understand that poetry, that perfect description of all that the night creature, the desperate people who were eternally damned were living every day and forever. Mortal could not see that, and therefore, had belittled this talent and made a marginal from this pure genius, laughing at him and rejecting him harshly. But Angelus had understood. He had found a smart and sensitive person and would not let him go. Then, as a gift, he had ordered William's work published and presented the young man he already knew would be his childe with the precious book. William this night had been overjoyed and had accepted to be turned, therefore becoming Angelus friend, companion, pupil and most of all, son. That book, this little bundle of paper and leather, represented the beginning of their family, something that William, become Spike, had always kept with him as a souvenir of the understanding that he had been given by his sire, the first person who had accepted him fully.  
  
And the ring. This gold and dark sapphire represented so much for the two of them. Angel perfectly remembered this night, this ceremony. Among Vampires, the creation of a childe meant a great deal. The bond forged between the Master and his Childe was strong and eternal, almost psychical. But with the time, some childe became very disappointing, so much limited, in whatever position they were settled in, pupils, lovers, lieutenants. Penn was the perfect example of this fact. Angelus first childe had been cruel, as expected of him, but could never have pretended to become an equal to his Sire. He was to obsessed in his paranoia and psychotic madness that he could never evolve as Angelus would have wished. But William was totally different. He had learned so well, always looking for his sire's trust and admiration and always obtaining it. Always loyal, always seeking his mentor's company, acceptance and friendship. Always so caring and respectful toward his Sire. More than a childe, he had become a real son to Angelus, an equal in everything. And one day, on the first anniversary of William's turning, Angelus had organised a very important ceremony in front of the whole clan and had given his Childe this ring, publicly making him his favourite childe and his heir. This little piece of jewellery was the symbol of their special bond, of William acceptance of his filial link to his Sire. And he had kept it til the moment he had thought Angel was dead, killed by the slayer and sent to hell.  
  
This discovery brought back sweet memories of time past along with the reassurance that his childe had not rejected him at all, just as the last look in the eyes of Spike had been telling him earlier that night. And finaly, Angel found the strength to let go and let the tears flow. As the first hours of the morning passed, Angel laid on the bed where his William had slept so many times before and cried himself to sleep, finally allowing himself to take the rest his body, his mind and his heart needed.  
  
It was very late this day when Angel finaly woke up, still holding in his hand the poetry book and the ring. The sun was nearly down in the sky, which meant that he did not have to stay a lot more longer in this hated town. That was quite reconforting to Angel. In no more than two hours, he would be back to his new home, with his friends and partners, Cordelia and Wesley. Not that he wanted really any company right now. But if ever he needed it, he knew that they would certainly listen to him, if not understand everything that was in his heart. And then, he would return into normal things, his duties, and maybe try to forget, let the pain and the grief fly away little by little.  
  
By the time Angel arrived at Los Angeles, he had hoped that his partners, Cordelia and Wesley, would have been gone for a few hours. He had wished to be alone for a little bit longer, to think, to brood, as Cordelia would have not so delicately called it. He knew that, as he had chosen to stay alive, he would have to get back to his duties, as if nothing had happened. And for that, he had the firm impression that a river of questions on the first night wouldn't really help him keeping his head out of the dark waters of sorrows. He was not even sure if he would ever tell them what had happened during the past night. He did not trust himself not to cry in front of them if he had to describe his Childe's death. They would not understand. Why would they ? He had never been very talkative and had particularly kept this part of his unlife and his heart to himself.  
  
But by reaching the door to the bureau and the living area of his place, Angel knew that he was not alone in the building, as he heard two strong sets of heartbeats and breathing from the next room. No one was talking, but faint noises of papers and books told Angel that his human partners were there and, contrary to what he had hoped, not asleep. He would have to see them and talk to them sooner than he had thought, then. Taking obliviously a deep breath that he did not need, he came to the door and opened it, entering the deemly lit room silently.  
  
Not two seconds passed before Cordelia looked up from her computer screen and saw Angel in the office. She wuiwkly reached for Wesley, to inform him that the souled vampire they were waiting for had finally come back. A big smile enlifghtened her face, as well as a flash of anger shown in her eyes. Angel's return had been due the previous night. And when the next morning, no more than 16 hours before, Cordelia and Wesley had arrived at the office and looked for Angel in the whole building and not finding him, they hed frozen in frigh. Hell, they had been both worried the whole day, not knowing what had happened, or even if Angel was okay or not.  
  
"Oh! Angel! You are back ! You are well, aren't you ? No injuries ?" she exclaimed, throwing herself in his arms, but only remaining in this position for a few seconds, before her relief at seeing that her boss was well gave way to her anger. "You are late, you know ? How come you did not even think to call us, or anything to tell us ? Two minutes on the phone are too much for you, maybe ?" she began complaining in her non diplomatic tone that was indeed her normal tone, before Wesley interrupted the flow of her sarcasm.  
  
"Cordelia ! Please, let Angel alone for a few minutes before killing him with your questions. He just came back from a long fight, I believe." Wesley said calmly and in a placatory attempt to keep a leash on Cordelia's natural instinct. But with little result indeed. Thirty seconds had not passed before the worst thing that could have been said came out of the cheerleader's mouth.  
  
"I bet you stayed to lurk around your precious Buffy, your greatest love, the perfect little girl, hmph." She had no time to go on like that any longer. Angel went sudenly in game face and his eyes shown the purest rage and hate that Wesley had ever seen in his whole life. Something was definitly wrong with Angel and his travel to Sunnydale. Something had certainly happened but, if he could trust what his eyes told him, he certainly could not expect a direct explanation from the souled vampire right now. The only thing to do was most certainly to shout something along the line of "SHUT UP, CORDELIA !", which was rewarded with an angered expression coming up on the young ladie's face and a bit of calm back on Angel's features. "Don't you see that Angel is tired and does not need to be bothered right now" he continued in a much more lenient and soft tone, a little shaken by the force and the rudeness of his previous demand. He would talk to her after that, anyway. She would understand. She would have to. After all, she knew first hand not to anger a vampire, even a souled one, when he was tired and seemingly on the edge, for some reason.  
  
This short time was enough for Angel to politely but firmly excuse himself, after sending a greatful but sad glance to the ex-watcher, and escape to his room. Really, he had nothing against his charges here in Los Angeles. The two of them were generally very helpful and understanding, even if Cordelia's talking abilities could be listed among the mortal weapons most of the hours of day and night. But right now, all he needed was to be left alone to mourn and grieve for his loss, for the son he had seen going into dust in his arms, ending all his hopes for his dear childe, the beloved baby of his family. If only he could . what, he did not even know what to wish for anymore except for the return of his dear William. But guess what, the Powers That Be were such a bitch when they wanted to be. There was no use in keeping on thinking that kind of things. But his memory did not end his continuous torture till the moment when, hours later, laying on his bed, his hurting mind lost his battle against his exhausted body and slipped in a forgetful and welcomed sleep. 


End file.
